


Monkees on the Bounty

by Rochelle_Templer



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, mentions of illness, missing scenes fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-02 06:12:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11503410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Templer/pseuds/Rochelle_Templer
Summary: A bout of seasickness forced Mike below decks during the "Hitting the High Seas" episode, but that's only the beginning of the story....





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written off a request from one of my readers who wanted a fic that gave more of Mike's perspective during the "Hitting the High Seas" episode.

Mike Nesmith was in a foul mood.

Actually, foul could not begin to describe the emotions he was grappling with at that moment. Yesterday was supposed to be the start of a three night gig. The money from those gigs would have enabled them to pay Babbit with some money left over to take care of their instruments. The owner of the club they had auditioned for had seemed honest and enthusiastic about hiring them.

Unfortunately, it also turned out that it was the owner’s brother who ran the day-by-day operations of the club. This meant that there had been no promotion for their gigs and that they were set to debut on a night when the kitchen was serving nothing but homemade beer-battered relish on bison brats. As a result, the only people who drifted in and out of the place were a few belligerent drunks who never stayed for more than one song. It was the worst possible audience to play to.

Not that the brother saw it that way. In his mind, the band was solely responsible for the meager turnout. He expressed his indignation by throwing them out of the club with some loudly worded insults. Once they had loaded their instruments into the Monkeemobile, Mike was tempted to march right back inside and give the guy a piece of his mind. But it didn’t take him long to realize that it wasn’t a good idea to pick a fight in a neighborhood that was known for its violent brawls. Especially not with Micky, Peter, and Davy to think about. So he swallowed down his bitterness and anger and silently drove everyone back to the pad.

The next morning, Mike only stuck around long enough to take a shower, get dressed and grab a cup of coffee. Then he went out to search for another gig. After hours of no luck at finding a gig for the group or even an odd job for himself, Mike was thoroughly disgusted. He went back to the pad and was grateful that it was empty for a change.

 Mike wasn't surprised that the others weren’t there. He had hardly spoken a word to the guys last night or this morning before he left. He figured that they were aware that he was in a miserable mood and were giving him his space so he could work through it. He was relieved that they guys understood his need to be alone once in a while and thankful that he never had to worry that they might decide to never come back.

However, as much as he needed some time to himself to think, a part of Mike wished that they were here. True, he probably still wouldn’t have much to say to them, but that wasn’t because he was still angry and frustrated. The truth was that he didn’t know what to say out of fear and worry.

He knew that their financial situation was dire and that they had needed this job more than he had let on to the rest of them. The Texan also knew that concerns about money did not go completely unnoticed by the guys. Still, they were far more optimistic and carefree about them than he ever was. Micky, Davy, and Peter always seemed to believe that things would work out for the best. Truthfully, Mike didn’t mind this because that was the way he wanted it most of the time. He wanted them to be able to have fun and enjoy life without the burden of worrying about paying rent or having food to eat. The way Mike saw it; that was his job. It was part of his responsibility to make things right and to take care of them.

Thus, he worried about the money they weren’t going to get now and about the fact that he hadn’t been able to come up with an alternate source of income. With that worry came the usual, old fears: fear that he would let his band mates, friends and brothers down and fear that this might be the failure that forces them to reconsider sticking together as a band. Mike knew that he shouldn’t think like that, but much like the worrying, this nagging fear had become a habit. And habits were not easy things to break.

Mike let out a long sigh and slumped down in his chair, crossing one leg across his knee. He wished again that the others were here. Not because having them here would solve anything, but just because he always felt better when they were around. His eyes drifted to the clock and he realized that it was almost evening. The guys would probably be home soon. Given his distant attitude last night and this morning and his lack of good news for them now, Mike believed that the least he could do was try to rustle up some dinner for them. After thinking about what was in the cupboards, the Texan was confident that there were just enough leftovers for a stew. It would be a bit thin, but it would still be better than some cold sandwiches.

Decision made, Mike got up and was heading toward the kitchen when Davy, Micky and Peter burst into the pad.

“Hi Michael,” Peter beamed at him. “What’s for dinner tonight?”

Mike chuckled. Despite his low mood, he couldn’t help but feel warmed by the smile that Peter had upon seeing him.

“Whatever I can scrape up, Shotgun,” the Texan drawled. “Any requests?” 

Peter cocked his head to the side while rolling his eyes upward in thought.

“Um, as long as it doesn’t have anchovies, I’m good,” the bassist finally said.

“Anchovies?” Mike said, putting his hands on his hips. “Pete, when I have I ever made anything with anchovies?”

“Oh, I’m not saying that  _you_  have,” Peter said. “But…you’re not the only one who has cooked dinner around here.”

At that point, Peter’s eyes arched toward Micky as did Davy’s. Mike let out another sigh, crossed his arms over his chest and looked over at Micky as well.

“Mick….”

“Hey, it was only that one time and I said that I wouldn’t do it again,” Micky pouted. “See if I ever offer to cook when Mike’s not here.”

“That’s what we’re hoping to avoid,” Davy quipped.

“Look, forget about all that,” Micky said with a wave of his hand. “We’ve got more important stuff to talk about.”

“Yeah, Mike,” Davy said. “Like the fact that the four of us have a job now.”

“We do?!” Mike said. “When? How?”

“We got it this afternoon,” Micky said. “After you went out, the three of us went looking around town. And it just so happens that we found someone in need of our services.”

“Really?” Mike said. “Man, that’s great. So where are we playing?”

“Well, uh…”Davy said, his words trailing off. He turned to Micky for help, and it was at that point that Mike felt an uneasiness stir inside him.

“Well we’re not actually playing anywhere,” Micky said. “I mean, it’s not actually a gig.”

“Right, it’s a job,” Davy said. “A job for all four of us. And we’re getting paid by the day.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Micky said, nodding his head vigorously. “We each get fifteen bucks a day along with free meals. And it looks like it will be about a week of work. So we’ll make back what we should have at that gig in no time.”

“Well, I suppose that don’t sound so bad,” Mike said, scratching his cheek. But just as he started to relax, another thought occurred to him which made his uneasiness grow.

“Wait a minute,” he said. “What exactly is this job?”

“We’re going to be sailors,” Peter grinned.

“Sailors?” Mike echoed.

“Yeah, some sailors were at this bar we stopped at,” Micky explained. “They were looking for some extra help for their next voyage. So we volunteered for the job and there just happened to be a spot for you too. Fifteen bucks a day and free meals. Isn’t it great?”

“Great?” Mike said. “Micky, we don’t know anything about being sailors.”

“Aw come on, Mike,” Micky replied. “I’ve seen dozens of pirate movies. All they ever do is look out for other ships, raise sails and mop the deck. We can handle that.”

“Yeah, and just think of it, Mike,” Davy added. “The four of us on the open sea. The wind on our faces. The thrill of adventure in the air. Braving the ocean with men hardened by a life lived on the water.”

“Hey, maybe we’ll find a treasure map,” Peter said.

“No, no more treasure maps,” Mike said. “Remember what happened last time with Pshaw and the rest of that mess.”

“But Mike, it wouldn’t be from some guy on the street corner,” Peter said. “It would be from real pirates.”

“Forget it,” Mike said. “Speaking of which though, how do you guys know that these people who hired us aren’t pirates themselves?”

“You must be joking,” Davy replied. “That’s just in the movies, Mike. They aren’t real pirates. Just some blokes looking to make a living.”

“Yeah, none of them were wearing eye patches or had a peg leg or a parrot or any of that,” Peter nodded. “So they couldn’t be pirates.”

Mike frowned and shook his head. Despite the other three’s insistence that this job was on the level, something about it didn’t feel right. Why would an experienced crew suddenly hire three novice sailors on a temporary basis? And why had it been so easy for them to get the job? All of it struck Mike as more than a little suspicious.

Still, if this was actually legitimate, the money was certainly good enough and would come in handy. While Mike did not share their romantic notions about the “thrill of adventure”, he did think that it might end up being a welcome change of pace.

“All right,” the Texan said. “I’ll dig up my old seaman’s book I got from my uncle so we can figure out what we should be doin’.”

Micky, Davy, and Peter cheered as they each patted Mike on the arm. Then they chattered away about how exciting going on an actual sea voyage was going to be. Mike still felt uneasy about this job, but desperation was quickly winning out over caution. He already knew that he would be spending most of the night skimming through that book and formulating some plans in case not everything went as smoothly as the rest of them seemed to think it would.

After all, Mike was all too aware of what their usual luck was like. He was not about to take a chance at being totally unprepared if things started to go wrong. 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

About a day and a half later, an exhausted Micky Dolenz stumbled down the stairwell to the lower decks of the ship.

The four of them had arrived early the previous morning at the pier to board the ship. After issuing a series of gibberish commands, there was a tense moment when the sailors doubted their seaworthiness. Thankfully, Mike had brought his basic seamanship book with him and had studied it just enough to know where to look for translations to all this jargon. After consulting the book a few more times, and a mishap with the mainsail, they were able to grasp the basics of what was required of them.

However, once they got properly under way, a new problem arose: seasickness. Fortunately, Micky had anticipated this and had brought along some pills that a friend of his had recommended. True to his friend’s word, the pills cleared the problem right up for him, Davy and Peter. Unfortunately, they had had the opposite effect on Mike. Thus, the Texan went from looking only slightly queasy to downright unsteady in less than a minute. He was sent down to the sickbay where he had been ever since.

Once he reached the foot of the stairs, Micky sighed and scratched his head. Looking back on it now, the drummer wanted to kick himself for giving Mike one of those pills. The Texan tended to be in excellent health with a tough constitution, but dispensing medicines to him was always a bit of a risk. Whenever he took them, Mike tended to suffer from side effects. Usually they were offbeat or benign such as a polka dot rash or increased drowsiness rather than debilitating or life-threatening. But those side effects were often a hassle nonetheless.

As a result, Mike avoided most drugs of any kind. He wouldn’t even take aspirin for headaches. And it was times like this, where Mike was suffering in bed; that reminded Micky of why that was.

Another pang of guilt twisted the drummer’s insides. This was the worst reaction he had ever seen from Mike after taking some medicine. It definitely did not help his conscience to know that he had been the one to give those pills to the Texan.

_‘Why couldn’t I leave well enough alone?’_  he asked himself silently.  _‘Mike wasn’t even really sick. But now he is. Thanks to me.’_

A sailor brushed past Micky, knocking him against the wall. Micky barely noticed it because he was too wrapped up in his thoughts and worries over Mike. After dwelling on it all day, Micky realized why he had been so eager to hand out those seasick pills. It wasn’t just because it had seemed like a good idea at the time or because he was desperate to get himself and the others better so the rest of the sailors wouldn’t suspect anything.

It was also because he wanted to be the one to fix things for a change.

Micky stopped just outside the sickbay door. Almost from the beginning, it seemed like it was always Mike who would take care of things. It wasn’t something that was formally agreed upon between the four of them. Often, Mike just happened to have the best solutions to their various problems. It wasn’t long before they left the responsibility of minding the band’s affairs and the household business to the Texan. Not long after that, they even started to come to Mike for help with their personal problems.

The drummer hung his head. Deep down, he had often felt that all that was a lot to lay onto Mike’s shoulders. But Mike never complained. Sometimes they would get a sigh, a roll of the eyes or a pointed remark from Mike over whatever mess they had managed to land in. However, Micky could not remember even one time when the Texan acted like he didn’t want to take on those responsibilities and burdens anymore. Sometimes, Micky was afraid that Mike thought that the rest of them would be disappointed in him or would reject him if he didn’t take care of those concerns. But Micky also believed that Mike did all that as a way of expressing his love and warm regard that he held for each of them. It was an idea that always made Micky feel lucky that they had the Texan as a friend.

Still, even though Mike might willingly choose to shoulder the burden of minding them; that didn’t mean that Micky was always comfortable with the arrangement. He liked knowing that he could always rely on Mike when needed, but he also wanted to believe that he could rely on himself. Mike preferred a slow, cautious approach to things which was not always Micky’s speed. The drummer believed that there were times when the only way to get the most out of life was by being willing to take chances, to live in the moment, and to go with your gut rather than just your head. As a result, the Texan’s normal method of doing things along with his decisions did not always sit well with Micky.

Just as important though was the desire Micky had to watch out for Mike whether the Texan acknowledged the need or not. Micky knew that it was easy for Mike to forget about what he needed or wanted when considering what needed to be done. In fact, it was a little too easy which led to the discomfort that Micky sometimes felt. He figured that it was his job to help take care of things alongside Mike. Barring that, he felt that he should mind Mike himself by making sure that Mike had the support needed to handle his responsibilities.

Trying to make sure that no one got seasick was another attempt to share the burden of responsibility with Mike, but it had failed miserably. Even worse, Micky knew that Mike had been uneasy about this job. The drummer had wanted to give him one less thing to worry about. Instead he had only made things worse.

Micky let out a long sigh as he turned the knob on the sickbay door. Davy was running errands for the captain while Peter was busy mopping up the mess hall. Micky was currently the only one with any free time so he figured that it would be best spent looking in on Mike.

 He carefully opened the door and poked his head inside. The examining area was empty and the only person in the room was a still figure in one of the beds. The ‘doctor’ of the ship had turned out to be an old seaman who knew the basics of first-aid along with some traditional remedies. He had dismissed Mike’s symptoms with a gruff comment to “lie down ‘til the siege was over”. Micky assumed that this meant that Mike would get better with rest and time. He wouldn’t let himself think about any other possible meaning behind those words.

Micky crept into the room on tiptoe, trying hard to avoid making the floor creak too much with his steps. Despite his efforts, it wasn’t long before Mike stirred in the bed.

“Who’s there?” he croaked. Micky sighed again and strode over to the beds.

“Hey Mike, it’s just me,” Micky said, sitting down on the bed next to him. “How are you feeling?”

Almost as soon as Micky said that, he regretted it. The Texan’s face was ashen with tinges of green in his cheeks. His eyes were half-opened and bleary. Sweat beaded on Mike’s forehead.

“Not too bad,” Mike drawled, a statement that Micky immediately knew was a lie. “Wha-what’s goin’ on up there? Is Davy…?”

“Davy’s busy being the captain’s cabin boy,” Micky said. He then placed a hand on the Texan’s upper arm. “Man, all it took was telling them that his name was Davy Jones…you know, like the locker…and they were spooked. There’s no way they’ll throw us off the ship now.”

Mike gave a tiny nod slowly blinking his eyes as he did so. Apparently that small amount of movement was too much for him because he let out a groan and clenched his hands into the bed sheets. Micky gave his arm a light squeeze.

“What about Pete?” Mike asked once he relaxed.

“Pete’s on cleanup duty,” the drummer answered. “He tried to offer to cook lunch for everyone, but I was able to shut him up before anyone else could hear him.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Mike chuckled. “They would’ve had us walkin’ the plank ‘fore y’all could say root beer soup.”

Micky giggled in agreement while Mike laughed some more. Then he groaned again and the drummer rubbed his arm.

“I’m just doing odds and ends stuff wherever they want,” Micky added. “It’s not too bad. At least, it’s not when I can figure out what the heck they’re wanting me to do. It’s just a lot of work.”

Micky scooted closer to Mike’s bed. He continued to stroke Mike’s arm, a gesture he hoped was comforting. The fact that Mike hadn’t tensed up under the touch was a good sign that it was.

“Davy and I talked to the captain. We’re thinking that they’re gonna dock our pay some ‘cause you can’t work right now. But it sounds like we’re still getting most of it what with Davy’s promotion and all. We still should be getting a good sized paycheck.”

“But not as much as if I had been working too,” Mike replied with a frown. “Instead, y’all have to do my share, on top of your stuff. For less pay.”

“Hey Mike, it’s ok,” Micky tried to assure him. “You can’t help being sick. Besides, we’re still getting some decent money and the work’s not that bad. Don’t worry about it.”

Mike said nothing, but scowled even more. Micky knew that he was asking the impossible by telling Mike to not worry. It was part of the Texan’s nature to worry and fuss over them. Trying to persuade him to do otherwise would be like asking the sun to not shine.

“Y’all…y’all making sure to stay out of trouble?” Mike asked, his voice feeble. “I don’t like the look of these guys.” Micky patted his arm again.

“Oh sure, we’re fine,” Micky said. “I told you, they think that Davy is some kind of sailor’s good luck charm. And me and Pete, we’ve got this sailor bag all figured out.”

All the sudden, Micky was dressed in a navy jacket with brass buttons, a tan vest, and a white shirt and pants. He pulled a small toy horn from his pocket.

“Yeah baby, Captain Hornblower here,” Micky said, his words coming out in a rhythm. “Yeah, sock it to me, baby….”

“Mick….”

Then the drummer’s attire changed. Now he was wearing a yellow raincoat and hat with a fake beard plastered to his face.

“Yarr, I be Captain Ahab and I’ve sailed the seven seas looking for the great white one,” Micky growled.

“Micky….”

“Yessir, I’ve been to every corner of this here globe. And I’ve experienced all the exotic dangers that await all men who dare to venture into those god-forsaken places.”

“Exotic dangers?” Mike said, his brow crinkling. “You mean like your culinary experiments? Although I suppose that it’s actually your side of our bedroom that is pretty god-forsaken.”

Just as suddenly, the latest seafaring outfit was gone and Micky was back to sitting on the bed.

“Aw man, you know what I mean, Mike,” he said, pouting. “I’m just saying that we got this covered so don’t let it bug you, babe.”

Mike smirked at him for a moment before frowning again. However that expression was soon broken when another groan escaped his lips. The Texan gripped the bed sheets again as he curled into a tighter ball.

“Mike? Mike, are you ok?” Micky asked. “You want me to get the doc?”

“No, it’s all right,” Mike gasped, his eyes shut tightly. “Just felt my stomach turn a little. The doctor gave me some kind of tea. Said it would settle it. It’s helping some, but it still comes and goes.”

Micky got up and went over to the sink. There he found some small hand towels. He took one, wetted it down with some water in a basin, and took it back to the beds. He sat back down and dabbed Mike’s forehead with it. The Texan moaned softly as he leaned into the touch.

“’M tired,” Mike murmured. “Think I’ll…shut my eyes for a spell….”

“Your eyes are already shut, babe,” Micky laughed. “But go ahead and get some sleep. You probably need it.”

Mike let out another mumble as he relaxed, his facial features becoming slack and his breathing slowing down. It wasn’t long before he looked like he was asleep. Micky patted his forehead with the cloth a couple more times before sitting on the bed next to his.

“Mike,” he whispered. “I…I’m sorry. Sorry about giving you those pills. I shouldn’t have…”

“’S’ok Mick,” Mike slurred, half-asleep. “You…just tryin’ to help….Jus’….stay awhile…will ya….”

  Seconds later, the Texan finally fell asleep. Micky shuffled toward the edge of the bed so he could pull the blanket on Mike’s bed up to his shoulders. Once the Texan was tucked in, he gingerly placed one of Mike’s hands into his.

“Ok Mike,” he said quietly. “You get some sleep and I’ll hang out here for a while.”

Mike didn’t answer, but Micky didn’t expect him to. Instead he gazed through the porthole at the expanse of ocean outside and wondered what they were in for next on this adventure.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Mike gritted his teeth as he sat up, trying to will his stomach to stop churning.

It had been a little over two days since he and the guys had boarded this ship. And every moment of those two days Mike had harbored a nagging doubt that he had done the right thing when he had let the other three convince him to along with this job.

Earlier that night, those doubts had finally been given the proof needed to validate their existence.

It started when Micky dropped by the sickbay after dinner to see him. The drummer had been spending almost all the time that wasn’t dedicated to working, sleeping or eating there. Mike figured that Micky was worried about him and was touched by his concern. But he was also certain that there was an element of guilt behind Micky’s actions. That was the part that Mike hated. He hated that Micky felt bad when he was just trying to take care of him. In Mike’s mind, Micky was about fun and free spiritedness, laughter and high energy. He did not like to think about Micky dealing with any negative thoughts or feelings. Especially on account of him.

It didn’t help that Mike couldn’t understand why Micky could ever feel that way. Didn’t Micky realize how much he had done for him already? The way Mike saw it, he could spend the rest of his life trying to repay Micky for helping him out of the miserable existence he had been in before they met and it still wouldn’t be enough. So what if Micky screwed up and gave him the wrong kind of seasick pills? At least he tried. Most of the people Mike had grown up around wouldn’t have bothered. The most he would have gotten was a suggestion to “tough it out” if he thought he was getting sick. Aside from his mother, there was no one who administered any sort of preventative measures to keep him from falling ill or who would have been willing to take care of him if he did get sick. The fact that Micky always fretted over him during those rare times when Mike was feeling under the weather was something the Texan was still getting used to.

Mike had wanted to tell Micky this during the drummer’s last visit. But as usual, the words to express his feelings got stuck in his throat. Besides that, Micky had a disturbing story of his own to tell him.

* * *

 

“Wait, wait a minute,” Mike said, rolling onto his side to face Micky. “You’re sayin’ that Davy actually saw this guy plotting somethin’ with his parrot?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Micky replied. “I swear, I’m not making this up. I only wish I were….”

“And you’re sayin’ that this guy, this crazy captain, wants to turn this ship into a pirate ship and go after the Navy.”

“Yep,” Micky nodded. “Heard it from the captain myself. After Davy told me and Pete about how crackers this guy was, we decided to try to get the goods on him. So we waited until he was asleep and muzzled that bird so I could take his place.”

“Why you?” Mike frowned.

“Come on, Mike,” Micky said with a rueful laugh. “You and I both know that I’m the only one around here who can do a decent parrot imitation.”

“Well that’s true enough,” Mike said. “But Micky, what if he had caught you? If he’s as crazy as y’all are making him out to be, who knows what he would’ve done if he found you sneaking in his cabin. Y’all could have been walkin’ the plank or….”

“Aw Mike, don’t worry about it so much,” Mick cut in. “He didn’t catch us. He was completely zonked out when we were in there. Besides, all that ‘walking the plank’ stuff is a bunch of bunk. Nobody does that anymore. That’s just something from the movies.”

“Uh-huh,” Mike said, narrowing his eyes. “You think so?”

“Sure,” Micky smirked. “These days, they’d probably just shoot us and throw our bodies overboard for the sharks.”

Mike scowled, his entire body tensing up, which did not escape Micky’s notice.

“Not that that’s gonna happen,” the drummer said, all traces of his smirk gone. “Remember, they all think that Davy has something to do with that whole ‘Davy Jones Locker’ nonsense. You know how superstitious sailors are. They’re not gonna take a chance of the boat capsizing or something by messing with us.”

“Wh-wait a minute,” Mike gulped. “What do you mean ‘capsizing’? Is there somethin’ wrong with the boat too?”

“No, no, no,” Micky said, waving his hands in front of him rapidly. “I’m just saying that they think something would happen if they mess with Davy or any of us. The boat’s fine. I’m pretty sure it’s fine. Not that I know a lot about boats. But hey, what’s to know, right? They float as long as they don’t have any holes in ‘em. The captain seems to think it’ll hold up. Granted, he’s a handful of gold coins short of a full treasure chest, but still…nobody else seems nervous about it.”

Mike scowled again. The more that Micky tried to reassure him, the worse the situation sounded. Some of that could be attributed to Micky’s tendency to over-dramatize and exaggerate. But if even half of what Micky was telling him was on the mark, it meant that Micky, along with Peter and Davy, were in real trouble. Trouble that was bound to get worse.

Trouble that wouldn’t allow him to be coddled any longer.

Mike groaned and slowly sat up, using the edges of the bed to steady himself. He swung his legs over the side and was about to stand up when another wave of nausea washed over him. Instead, he leaned forward and let his head fall into his hands.

“Mike, what are you doing?” Micky asked, putting a hand onto the Texan’s shoulder.

“I’m not stayin’ here while y’all deal with a crazy captain bent on playing pirates,” Mike growled.

Mike shrugged Micky’s hand off, a part of him regretting this action. He rubbed his face a couple times before trying again to stand up. He had made it to his feet and had started to straighten up when his legs gave out. He tried to fall back onto the bed, but ended up landing on the floor in a heap. Micky gasped and knelt down beside him.

“Mike, please stop this. Please,” he begged. “I told you, me and Davy and Pete, we got this covered. So the captain’s bonkers. So what? That doesn’t mean that everyone on board is insane. I’m sure they don’t all want to be pirates and get sent off to prison or whatever. We’ll just have to convince enough of them that the captain is out of his mind and then we can take over the ship.”

“Take over the ship…you mean mutiny?” Mike said. “Micky, don’t you know what they do to people who mutiny?”

“Mutiny? Who said anything about mutiny?” Micky responded with a nervous laugh. “We’re not going to mutiny. Not really. We’re just going to…encourage the crew to get the captain some help. You know, like a shrink or something. A guy who goes to a parrot for advice shouldn’t be running a ship anyhow. So it’s not like we would mutiny against a rightful captain of a ship. It’s more like we’re getting the sane people back in charge.”

Mike doubted that anyone else would see things that way. He opened his mouth to tell Micky this when suddenly bile rose up into his throat. Fortunately, Micky had been able to interpret the silent signs of his distress. The drummer jumped up, grabbed a basin from a nearby counter and placed on the floor in front of Mike just as the Texan began to vomit. It was mostly dry heaves due to his not being able to eat much, but he still managed to lose what little dinner he had been able to force down.

“Ick, so I guess the soup really was as bad as everyone said,” Micky tried to joke. “Glad I took a pass on it.”

Mike moaned, but said nothing. He coughed a couple more times and then leaned back against the bed, waiting for his stomach to calm down. Meanwhile, Micky stood up and fetched a glass and a pitcher of water from the other side of the room. He poured a sliver of liquid into the cup before crouching back down.

“Hey,” Micky said softly. “You think you can take this now?”

The drummer held the glass out to him. Mike slowly nodded, taking the cup from his hand. As he sipped at the water inside, Micky took the basin away. The drummer swished a little water from the pitcher into it and then tossed the contents out an open porthole. Then he went over to crouch down next to him again.

“Come on, babe,” he said. “Let’s get you back into bed.”

Mike wanted to protest, but was too sickly to do much more than frown. Micky looped his arms under the Texan’s shoulders and hoisted him upward. As Micky helped him get back onto the bed, Mike contemplated once again that Micky was stronger than he looked.

“Now, you just stay here and let us handle things,” Micky told him. “Everything will work out all right. You’ll see. So please, just stay in bed until you get better. Please Mike.”

Micky guided Mike to lie down, making sure to fluff his pillow first. Once Mike was settled, Micky covered him with a blanket.

“All right,” Mike mumbled. “But y’all stay out of trouble. You hear me? Tell the crew what’s goin’ on, but let them handle it after that. Don’t go starting anything.”

“Ah, don’t worry,” Micky said again. “Nothing’s going to happen. Nothing major anyway. Just a friendly little takeover is all.”

Micky have him one last reassuring pat on the shoulder before rushing out of the room.

* * *

 

Hours later, Mike still did not feel any better about the situation. In fact, now that he had had time to think about it some more, he was convinced that things were about to get dangerous.

‘ _Friendly takeover….who does Micky think he’s kidding?’_ he asked himself. ‘ _The captain probably thinks he’s Bluebeard the pirate or somethin’. There’s no way he’ll just hand over his ship just ‘cause it’s the sensible thing to do.’_

Mike took a deep breath. Micky might be the kind of person who was prone to over-dramatize, but the problem was he was also the type to underestimate the peril he put himself into. Micky went with his gut and liked to make split second decisions. Most of the time, things worked out ok, but there were still too many times when they did. Given the stakes in this situation, Mike could not afford to let this be one of those times when things fell apart.

The Texan took another deep breath. He wasn’t going to be any help if he couldn’t even stand up without vomiting. Thankfully, he hadn’t had any more bouts of nausea since the last incident when Micky was there. However, he wasn’t entirely sure if he would be steady on his feet.

‘ _Only one way to be sure….’_

Mike ground his jaw one last time and pulled himself up to his feet. His legs wobbled, but his head no longer swam with dizziness. Holding onto the furniture around him, Mike lurched toward the door. Once he was there, he rested his forehead against the wood and closed his eyes. He could feel beads of sweat trickling down the sides of his face. He gave himself a few more seconds to pull himself together and then opened the door.

The passageway was empty. Satisfied that no one would see him, Mike crept out of the sickbay. His pace was painfully slow, but Mike pleased that he was able to get around without too much stumbling. Eventually, he found a nook in the hallway and hid inside of it so he could rest for a bit.

‘ _I’ll just stay down here. In the lower decks. That way I can keep an eye on what’s goin’ on around here without anyone knowing.’_

Mike leaned against the wall and closed his eyes again. He would stick with his plan to stay out of sight for now.

But if the situation changed, and the guys needed him…Mike was ready to do whatever he had to in order to keep them safe.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Peter hadn’t expected much out of his day. Still, he had hoped that it would have gone better than it had been so far.

* * *

 

After Micky had finished substituting for the captain’s parrot and had paid a visit to Mike; they had gone back to their cabin and had spent most of the night trying to figure out what they should do.

“It’s not like we can radio for help,” Davy said. “There’s only one radio on this whole ship and there’s always someone hanging around it.”

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I don’t wanna be a pirate,” Micky said. “Eye patches make my face itch. And after tonight, I’ve had my fill of parrots for a while.”

“And I don’t know if a peg leg would suit you, Micky,” Peter added. The bassist figured that this was a relevant point and was mildly disappointed when Micky looked confused rather than relieved that someone had mentioned this.

“So I guess this just leaves us with only one option,” Micky sighed.

“Yeah,” Davy said, shaking his head. “But, mutiny? Guys, I don’t mind saying that I don’t like it. What if we fail and get caught? Everybody knows that mutiny gets a harsher punishment than almost any other crime out there. And I don’t think the whole ‘Davy Jones locker’ thing would carry much weight in that situation.”

“Yeah, I imagine not, but what else can we do?” Micky replied. “I’m pretty sure the punishments for piracy aren’t much better.”

All of them let out long sighs. Peter leaned forward and rested his chin on the heel of his hand.

“I wish Mike was here,” he said glumly. “He could help us figure out what to do.” Micky reached over and patted his shoulder.

“Yeah, Pete, I wish he was here too. But we can’t count on that right now. Mike’s still sick. I mean, really, really sick. He’s trying to fight it, but I think that’s just making it worse. So the last thing he needs is for us to go tell him that we need him to figure out what to do. I told him the basics of what’s going on so I think that’s enough for now.”

Peter looked over to see Davy nodding in agreement. He understood why Micky had said that, and for the most part he agreed with him. Sick people needed to rest as much as possible. That’s what his mom had always told him.

Still, Peter also couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that they weren’t consulting Mike for this decision. Every since Mike had come into their lives, they had all known that they could go to him if they needed help with something. Plus, Mike tended to have the best ideas to solve the various problems that they ran into. Not all of the Texan’s solutions worked out, but Peter couldn’t think of a time when these ideas made things much worse.

Just important as all that though was the suspicion Peter had that Mike needed to be needed. That the Texan felt as if he had to serve some purpose in order to feel worthy. Peter always felt sad whenever he thought that Mike might think this way, but he also figured that people could only stop believing something if they wanted to.  Not that that would ever deter Peter from wishing that Mike could get past those feelings someday.

“Speaking of Mike, what are we going to do with him if we do decide to mutiny?” Davy asked. “They all know he’s with us. So what if they decide to use him as a hostage or something? Or…or they try to hurt him to get to us?”

“Micky,” Peter said, grabbing the drummer’s arm.”We can’t let them do it. We can’t let them hurt Mike. We got to hide him.”

“Listen guys, I really, really don’t want anything bad to happen to him either, but Mike’s too sick to move right now,” Micky said. “Whatever we end up doing, we’re going to have to plan on making sure that Mike will be safe where he is.”

“You know, if we get enough of the crew involved, it shouldn’t be a problem,” Davy said. “There’s plenty of bad blood on this boat. So if we can sway enough of them to our side, the captain and whoever sticks with him won’t have a chance to do anything to Mike because they’ll be too busy dealing with us. And that way, Mike won’t have to be involved at all.”

“Yeah,” Micky said, a smile finally appearing on his face. “We just got to get everyone to realize how crazy this guy is. How hard can that be? He gets his orders from a parrot.”

“I don’t know guys,” Peter said, his hands fidgeting. “I mean, this is his boat and we’re thinking of taking it away from him by force. It just, it just doesn’t seem right.”

“Peter, did you miss the part where he was plotting with his parrot?” Davy asked.

“No, I didn’t miss that, but so what?” Peter replied. “A lot of people talk to themselves or to animals or to plants when they’re trying to figure things out. Is that really any weirder than what the captain is doing?”

“I don’t believe this,” Davy said, throwing his hands up. “Peter….”

“No, hold on,” Micky said, holding up a hand toward Davy. “Pete, if it was just about talking to parrots, I would be with you on this one hundred percent.”

“You would?” the bassist asked, genuinely surprised.

“Sure, why not?” Micky shrugged. “Like you said, who cares if it’s parrots or portholes or even a bottle of rum that he’s talking to? The captain’s not exactly a pleasant guy to be around. So if he wants to spend all day telling tall tales to his parrot, man, I’d be all for that. Heck, I’d even throw in a box of crackers for the two of them if we could just finish our jobs here and never have to deal with him.”

Micky sat his hands down onto his lap, his eyebrows furrowing together slightly. Peter knew that this was supposed to be Micky’s ‘serious face’.

“But it’s not about the parrot, Pete,” the drummer said. “And in this situation, it’s not even about whose boat it is either. It’s about this whole pirate thing. And it’s about not going to prison for, oh, say, fifty years. Give or take a few years. It’s about making sure this guy’s crazy fantasies don’t lead to a bunch of people getting hurt…including us.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Peter sighed again. “I just wish there was a way we could just talk him out of it. I mean, maybe he was just fantasizing about it. Sort of like how people make movies about bank robbers and stuff.”

“Ok, I’ll tell you what, Pete,” Mike said. “Maybe it was just a gag. Maybe he’s not for real on this whole pirate thing. If he doesn’t say anything about it to anyone else, we’ll just let it go and hightail it off this boat at the first port we get to. But…if he does do anything more with it….”

“Then we’ll have to do something,” Peter finally agreed. “I guess we can hope that it won’t come to that.”

* * *

 

Unfortunately, Peter soon discovered that, much like his abysmal record at predicting which television shows would stay on the air, he had guessed wrong about the captain’s determination to become a pirate. Thus, it wasn’t long before Micky wanted to put his plan for a mutiny into motion. The drummer had asked him to incite the men into joining in with them. Peter had readily agreed to do it even though he had no idea how to go about it.

He soon decided that the best method would be to give the crew some good reasons why they should be upset with the captain. Hopefully, Micky could then direct that ire into a mutiny. He went around and mumbled things like “the captain steals all the biscuits during breakfast” and “the captain walks with dirty boots onto freshly swapped decks” into the sailors’ ears. Peter wasn’t sure if this was exactly what Micky had in mind, but these were the kinds of things that made him sore at someone.

At first, this tactic seemed to work and it wasn’t long before a group of disgruntled seamen were gathered around them. For a brief moment, Peter thought that Micky’s desire for a swift, nonviolent mutiny would be fulfilled.

Then again, Peter was also very familiar with how quickly their luck could turn.

As a result, it really wasn’t that surprising to him when he and the others ended up walking a plank. Micky was frantically trying to jabber and bluster his way out of it, the way Micky always did. However, Peter’s genuine curiosity over what Micky might know that he didn’t ruined the drummer’s attempts at conning the pirates out of killing them.

Peter felt bad about it afterwards. He wondered how he could make it up to Micky. Maybe by asking the captain if they could walk the plank a lower point on the ship. It was a sunny day and they all knew how to swim. It would just be a matter of swimming until they reached an island. And, of course, avoiding any sharks along the way. Peter was pretty sure he had seen several of them during the voyage. Islands, that is, not sharks.

Fortunately, the usual Monkees luck turned once again and the pirates who were formally regular seafarers were distracted by a ship that was approaching them. Considering how eager a lot of the men were to don eye patches and funny hats; Peter was surprised to see so many of them appear confused or even a little lost about what they were supposed to do about that other ship.

Micky, who Peter had thought thrived on confusion, took advantage of the situation instantly. He encouraged them to attack the pirates who were firmly aligned with the captain. Granted, attacking wasn’t something they were very good at. Except maybe Davy. Watching Davy dueling with a sword made Peter wonder if Davy came from a line of noblemen who had to learn about dueling to live in “proper society”. Meanwhile, Micky stuck with what he did best: playing pranks on people.

Peter, on the other hand, noticed that all he had to do was run about the ship and for some reason, people always seem to trip themselves up while chasing him. The bassist didn’t understand why this always happened to him. He supposed his mother would say that it was part of the “Tork luck” he had heard about as a kid.

It soon became apparent that a lot of the men were only slightly into becoming a bona fide pirate. Consequently, it didn’t take long for the captain and his cronies to be captured and subdued. Shortly after that, the crew from the other ship came aboard so they could make sure this ship posed no threat to them and get things back in order.

The captain of the naval ship thanked the three of them for their help in stopping the pirates and asked if they wanted to move over to their ship while they escorting this one back to port.

“Nah, that’s ok,” Micky said. “Our friend, Mike, is down in sickbay and we want to keep an eye on him. Thanks for the offer though.”

“You’re welcome,” the naval captain said. “Quite understandable. Perhaps you would like our ship’s surgeon here to check on your friend?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Micky nodded. “He’s below deck. I’ll show you.”

Peter walked close to Micky and Davy as they approached the stairwell down to the lower decks with the captain and the surgeon close behind. They had just made it to the bottom of the steps when Peter, Micky, and Davy all gasped at the same time.

There, at the bottom of the stairs was Mike. Still and unconscious with a large bloodstain on his shirt.

“MIKE!”


	5. Chapter 5

Of all the things Micky Dolenz disliked the most in the world, waiting was probably near the top of the list.

Granted, there were many kinds of waiting and some of them were less annoying than others. There was the eager anticipation when waiting for something good to happen like a party or a birthday gift. Or there was the frustrating kind of waiting that involved not being able to start something or get through it fast enough.

However, this kind of waiting, the waiting to find out if someone close to him would be all right or not, was the absolute worst kind. And it was gnawing away at Micky’s nerves.

The drummer held a jittery hand against his mouth, biting the edges of his nails. His mind kept going back to the memory of how they had found Mike below deck: unconscious, still and with blood on his shirt. At the time, Micky had felt lightheaded at the sight of the red stain on Mike’s chest. Both because of the fact that it was blood and that it was on Mike.

The naval crew had reacted immediately. They had raced down the steps so they could check his vitals. Once they realized that Mike was alive and that they couldn’t revive him, a couple of the men had carefully hoisted him up and transferred him back to the sick bay. There, the ship’s surgeon went in to examine him.

By this point, it had been a little over an hour since they had watched them take Mike into the sick bay. There had been no word of how the Texan was doing or even what was wrong with him. Micky was both nervous and sad as well as certain that Peter and Davy were experiencing similar feelings.

“Just how long are they going to wait to tell us anything?” Davy huffed. “Surely, they could have told us something by now.”

“I’m sure they’ll tell us something soon,” Micky sighed. “We just gotta be patient.”

“Do, do you think they know what’s wrong yet?” Peter sniffled. “There…there was a lot of…blood….”

“Aw, I’m sure they’ve figured something out, Pete,” Micky said, patting the bassist’s arm. “They’re…just waiting until something changes to tell us anything. I mean, if they aren’t completely sure of what’s going on and nothing’s changed, there really isn’t much of a point to tell us anything now. Besides, if something…something really bad happened, I’m sure they would have told us.”

Peter nodded as Micky pat his arm again. All of that had been easy to say out loud, but it was far from firmly imprinted into Micky’s mind and heart. The truth was that Micky was worried sick that no one was telling them anything and was starting to think that it meant something bad had happened. Still, saying that not only made Davy and Peter feel better, it also made those words feel like a wish being sent out into the world. A wish that Mike would be fine and that he would get better soon.

“Yeah, maybe,” Davy said, chewing on the edge of his thumbnail. “Still seems like bad manners to me.”

Davy fell silent after that along with the rest of them. Normally, Micky also hated silence. This time though, he had no energy to do something about it or any desire to work up the needed energy. Most of the time, Micky had no problem with finding any way he could to distract himself from the negative things in life. Still, distracting himself from the fact that Mike was hurt and that it could be serious seemed wrong for multiple reasons.

Several anxious minutes later, the surgeon walked out to meet with them with the captain appearing alongside him. The three of them stood up as they approached. All of them tried waiting for the doctor for about five seconds before rushing over to talk to him all at once.

“What is it, doctor?”  “Is he ok?”

“What’s wrong with him?”  “Is he going to be all right?”

“Can we see him?”

“Boys, boys, calm down,” the surgeon said, raising his hands. “Your friend will be just fine in a couple of days. He has a mild concussion and a severe form of seasickness. But with some rest, nourishment, and time, he will recover.”

“Are you sure?” Micky asked. “Mike, he…but there was all that blood….”

“Yeah, what about that?” Davy demanded.

“I understand your concerns,” the doctor said, raising his hands again. “But as it turns out, it was not his blood that was on his shirt. All Mr. Nesmith has is a bump on the head and the effects of prolonged nausea. I am quite sure that he will be fine in a couple days.”

“Wait, wait a minute,” Micky asked, shaking his head. “What do you mean it wasn’t his blood? Then where did it come from? What happened to him?”

“I think it would be best if I let him explain it to you himself,” the doctor smiled.

“You mean, you’ll let us see him?” Peter asked.

“Yes, but only for a few minutes. He does need to rest as much as possible right now. Although, I will have to ask that you boys take turns waking him up for a few minutes every hour or so.”

“Why wake him up?” Davy asked. “You just said he needed to sleep.”

“Yes, I did,” the doctor replied. “But I also need to make sure that his concussion does not turn out to be something more serious. I don’t think it will, but it’s always best to be cautious. Just make sure that when you wake him that he is lucid enough to answer questions and appears fully aware of his surroundings. If he seems incoherent or has trouble speaking, inform me as soon as possible. I will be staying on this ship until we reach port.”

“Thanks doc,” Micky said “Come on guys.”

He motioned at Peter and Davy to file in behind him into the sick bay. They walked in slowly, trying hard to not make much noise. As they went inside, they were greeted by the sight of Mike lying in bed with his eyes closed. There was a small bandage near the top of his forehead and his clothes had been changed to a basic naval uniform. The Texan did not move even as they drew closer to the bed.

“Maybe we should check on him later,” Peter said in a hushed tone.

“You heard what the doctor said,” Davy whispered. “We need to wake ‘im up once in a while anyway.”

“Yeah, but look at him,” Micky murmured. “He looks so peaceful like that, sleeping. Maybe we should….”

“Y’all goin’ keep carrying on like that or are you comin’ all the way in?” the Texan grumbled from the bed.

Micky, Davy, and Peter looked at each other for a moment before shrugging and walking the rest of the way over. As soon as they reached Mike’s beside, the Texan cracked his eyes open.

“Oh Michael,” Peter gasped, his eyes tearing up again. “Are you all right? The, the doctor said….”

“Hey, calm down, Shotgun, I’m fine,” Mike drawled. “It’s just…just my head’s botherin’ me a little. And this dumb seasickness thing….”

“Well that’s good at least,” Davy said. “But what happened to you, Mike? We thought you were laying around here. Instead we find you passed out near the stairs with blood all over you. I don’t mind saying, we thought…that maybe the worst had happened.”

“That’s not…it weren’t like that at all,” Mike said, his brow crinkling. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Micky echoed. “But how….?”

“I wasn’t about to let y’all face a crazy pirate and his goons on your own,” Mike cut in. “But I also figured y’all would put up a fuss over me rather than watchin’ out for yourselves if I showed up. So I hid below deck. That way, I could figure out more about what they were goin’ do and then help you out where I could. Take a few of them out. Sabotage their cannons. Stuff like that. It worked out all right at first.”

“At first?” Micky said, raising an eyebrow. “Then what happened?”

“What happened was that lousy seasickness again,” Mike frowned. “I was retching in the corner when one of those pirates came up behind me. He kept swingin’ this knife at me while I tried to dodge him. Suddenly, the boat lurched to the side. We were both thrown off our feet. I hit my head, but he…he fell on his own knife.”

Mike paused and closed his eyes. The three of them thought that maybe Mike was going back to sleep. But then the Texan took a deep breath and reopened his eyes.

“I was pretty out of it after that,” he continued. “But I…I um, I could see him. Bleeding and stuff. He tried grabbing me, but I think I pushed him away. I don’t remember. I thought I saw him crawling toward the stairs. I don’t know for sure. Everything sort of went black after that.”

“Well that explains the blood on you,” Davy nodded with more than a little relief in his voice. “Still, that was a right dumb thing you did. Wandering around while you were all sick like that. And you didn’t even need to. We handled that lot easily.”

“Yeah, you should have seen in, Michael,” Peter beamed at him. “It was just like a real pirate movie. With sword fights and swinging on ropes and people falling overboard and..and….”

“I’m sure it was great, Pete,” Mike said with a slight smile.

Peter and Davy bobbed their heads in agreement and smiled back. Micky, however, frowned a little bit. The smile on the Texan’s face seemed forced and awkward. It was a smile Mike usually got when he wasn’t actually happy about something, but wasn’t eager to talk about it either.

It was a smile that Micky understood very well.

“Come on, guys,” the drummer said. “We should go tell the captain that they might still have a pirate hiding out somewhere below deck. And one of us has gotta give an official report of what happened.”

“Ok,” Peter nodded. “I’ll go tell them about the pirate. Feel better soon, Michael.” The bassist gave a little wave before walking out the door. Micky and Davy looked at each other and shrugged.

“Right, so one of us should stay here and the other one goes to make that report,” Davy said. “That way we can wake Mike up like the doctor said.”

“I’ll stay here,” Micky said, sitting down onto a chair beside the bed. “You can go tell them what happened.”

“Now wait a minute,” Davy scowled. “Why do I have to be the one to go? I could stay here too, you know.”

“You could,” Micky said with a nod and a slowly widening grin. “But then you’ll have to deal with Mike. Mike who won’t be getting enough sleep. Mike who will have your face greeting him every hour or so. Hey, remember that time when we ran out of coffee for like three days? Remember how much fun we had dealing with Mike and his morning mood as a result?”

Davy swallowed hard and Micky was sure that he had made his point. He had to fight hard to resist the urge to chuckle.

“You know, on second thought; it probably would be better if I told them what happened around here,” Davy replied. “I’m sure he needs it all straight for an official report. And who better than someone who, you could say, has seafaring in his name.”

“Y’all know I’m still here, right?” Mike grumbled. “I ain’t deaf.”

“Right, I should get going,” Davy said, ignoring him. “Take it easy, Mike. Peter and I will stop by later.”

Davy swiftly backed out of the room, prompting Micky to finally laugh out loud. Meanwhile, Mike scowled again, wincing slightly as he did it. The drummer heard a soft groan which pulled his attention back to the bed.

“What’s wrong? Is it your head?” he asked. “Should I get the doctor?”

“No, uh, no, I’m fine,” Mike mumbled. The Texan reached up and rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. “It just…picks up sometimes.” Soon, he let his hand fall back down onto the bed and closed his eyes.

“Well, go ahead and get some sleep,” Micky said.”I’ll stick around in case you need anything or….”

“Micky,” Mike interrupted. “About that fight y’all had with those pirates….”

“Psshh, it wasn’t really a fight,” Micky said, fidgeting. “It was more like they were chasing us around with swords. Most of the time. Ok, a few times they did swing them at us, but they weren’t very good at it.”

“Mick….”

“And yeah, we did swing on a few ropes, but that was just to get from one place to another quicker. Man, I can’t believe how many ropes there are just hanging around. What do you think they do with all of them anyway? I know they aren’t all attached to the sails. So what’s the point?”

“Micky….”

“And the sword fights we did have…they were with people like that old guy with the glass eye. Hey, I wonder why he didn’t just wear an eye patch? Why go to all the trouble to get a glass eye? I thought wearing an eye patch was what you’re supposed to do when you’re a pirate. Instead his eye always seemed to look off to the side and not really….”

“Micky!”

“Huh?” Micky said, his train of thought derailing. He looked down at the bed to see Mike wincing even more. “Mike…sorry, babe.”

“’S’ok,” the Texan said softly. “I just, um, I,…y’all shouldn’t have done that. Gone after those pirates. The might have made you walk the plank or somethin’.”

“Maybe,” Micky shrugged. He thought about mentioning that they were about to walk the plank when the Navy showed up, but figured that that probably wasn’t a good idea. “But we would’ve worked something out. We always do, ya know.”

“Mick…I…I’m sorry.”

Micky blinked hard. He almost asked Mike what he was apologizing for. However, it didn’t take long for him to guess why he had done it. He hated that Mike likely felt responsible for what happened, but also knew that there was little chance that he’d be able to persuade Mike that none of it was his fault. At least, not while they were still on the ship.

“It’s ok, babe,” the drummer said soothingly. “It’s over now, so it’s ok. Just get some rest.”

Micky reached over and gently rubbed Mike’s shoulder. That seemed to calm the Texan down even more. Soon, Mike’s entire body relaxed, his eyes closed and his head lolling slightly to the side.

“Y’all just…too crazy…never…careful….”

A soft snore rose up from the bed. Micky smiled even more as he pulled the blanket up to Mike’s shoulders.

“That’s ok, Mike. We know you love how things are anyway. So don’t worry so much, babe. We’re not going anywhere.”

Mike stirred, but did not wake up. Micky stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back in his chair. He was fairly certain that the craziness of this whole trip wouldn’t be over until they actually reached port, but at that moment, he didn’t mind that so much.

They’d get through it. They always did. As long as the four of them stuck together.


End file.
